Time Bomb
by GinnyBadWolf
Summary: When a simple stealth mission with York, Wash, and Connie goes disastrously wrong, everyone has to deal with the aftermath. And it's a hard one to deal with, too. Yorkalina, with a little Wash/Connie if you squint. Some violence.
1. Chapter 1

**So here's my first ever fic for my OTP, Yorkalina! YAYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYY**

 **Disclaimer: D:**

The Director paced in front of the still Freelancers, giving the soldiers a moment before beginning. "Today, we are sending out three agents on a mission to a rebel base. This is a very important mission, so listen closely, soldiers." South straightened up a little, York stopped staring at Carolina, and Wash stopped attempted to stop singing "Soft Kitty" in his head.

"Your objective is to destroy their storage rooms full of guns, ammo, and explosives. You will have to slip past the guards on the way in - this mission requires stealth until you set off the bomb. When you have done so you will run to the Pelican and fly out as soon as you are done. This is an in-and-out mission, soldiers. And though I feel that many of you are not - fully qualified for the job, and lack some of the skill needed-" his eyes wandered towards some of the Freelancers who were on the lower half of the scoreboard -"I will be sending some of our less experienced recruits on this mission. Agents Washington and Connecticut, go to the Pelican and wait for debriefing." Everyone looked around in confusion. Didn't he say he was sending three Freelancers? Who was the third?

"Agent York, as second in the rankings, will be accompanying Agents Washington and Connecticut on their mission as well." York looked up surprisedly - him? He started walking towards the Pelican as well, and joined Wash and Connie as they were given more information on the mission.

As soon as the Counselor had finished explaining each detail slowly, 479er had shown up. "Let's get going. If we're quick enough, I won't miss the Grifball match." Wash started to jog - they all knew what happened to the Agents if they made her late for Grifball.

York laughed and whispered to 479er, "I know for a fact you have the next round recorded in case you miss it, but pretending has it perks, doesn't it?" The two laughed as Wash ran around at top speed getting everything. Connie was giggling at him too, but if you watched closely you could see her pace quickening slightly.

Finished getting everything ready, they boarded the Pelican, getting strapped into their seats. York looked over to Wash, who was panting from all the running. Should he do it? York smirked. Absolutely.

Nonchalantly, York took the seat on the left so Wash could sit next to Connie. As Wash and Connie struck up a conversation, York smiled. Perfect. He waited until the Pelican's engine started, and the two fell silent. He took the opportunity. "So, Wash." Both Wash and Connie looked over to him, Connie curious and Wash simply radiating fear. "Since you and Connie are so close, have you decided to show her your room? Give her a tour of the cat posters?" Connie snorted and Wash was blushing so badly you could almost see it through his helmet.

479er's voice came over the loudspeaker. "We're about to take off. York, come sit in the front with me." York shrugged and unstrapped himself, carefully walking to the pilot's area.

With a grin, he made one last comment as he strode to the front. "You kids have fun back there. Wash, remember to use protection." He could almost feel Wash's blush this time, Connie's added in the mix. He strapped himself into the chair behind 479er and mentally prepped himself for his mission, with Delta popping up every now and then giving him statistics and numbers until he was just about ready. This was a habit of his before missions - usually it just ended up making him nervous, but at least he was ready.

479er talked into the loudspeaker again. "We're just about to land." Luckily, it was a pretty cloudy day, and 479er was able to land over the sea and let the three drop out before flying away again to find cover.

York swam to shore pretty quickly, using the fog as a cover, with Wash and Connie at his heels. Once he arrived at the shore, he ran up behind a wall and motioned for the two to follow, guns in the air and sprinting quietly. He peeked around the corner and watched the two guards converse quietly for a moment before loading his gun with tranquilizer darts and shooting them in the neck. They both fell to the ground in a matter of seconds. York was no North when it came to sniping, but he could get the job done.

He sneaked up to the next wall easily, with both guards out of the way, and continued to make his way closer until all three were inside. They quietly snuck across the wall that the guards had their backs to, being very stealthy and feeling very proud of themselves. What happened next was not something that had been planned.

Wash sneezed.

About fifteen guards turned from their idle positions and stared at the Freelancers for about two seconds before opening fire. All three rolled down and started shooting at their attackers, who went down fairly quickly. Only four men remained when the Freelancers were done shooting, and they closed in for physical combat.

Immediately, the largest one went for York, who ducked the punches and kicks and threw in some of his own, playing defensive until he could find an opportunity to gain the upper hand. Wash and Connie stayed together, switching between the two soldiers who had come after them. They were holding up much better than they had in the past. The fourth soldier, who York had attempted to block off, ran to get reinforcements.

York's man threw a punch at his jaw, which York ducked. In the small moment of imbalance, York tackled the man from the side, causing the two to fall over, but York to have the advantage. York punched the man in the stomach, which winded the brute, but received a hard punch in the side of the head. He fell to the side, clutching his head, as the man stood up and formidably cracked his knuckles and approached York, but froze mid-stride. York had gotten out his gun and shot him three times in the chest. He shrugged a bit. He knew a gun in hand-to-hand combat was kind of cruel, but he had a mission. As the guard fell back, York made his way to his feet and ran to help Wash and Connie.

That one was over fairly quickly; if a fight is two against three, and the group of three are Freelancers, you know which one you're going to bet on. Wash and Connie stood there, shaking it off for a second before York yelled, "We gotta go set off the bomb. This isn't a stealthy in-and-out mission anymore, it's a life-or-death situation! Let's go." The three ran out, occasionally shooting tranquilizers at the guards they saw. They could have fought them, but they couldn't risk anyone knowing they would be in this part of the building for fear of them stopping the bomb.

They sprinted the halls, looking around wildly, until Connie let out a small scream and fell to the floor, her ankle splayed out behind her pointing in a weird angle. And of course, at that second, a guard that had been patrolling a hallway nearby came running in upon hearing the sound, pointing a gun at Connie. Without a moment's hesitation, Wash pointed his gun at the soldier and fired, killing him. But it was too late: the guard had already fired as well. It hit Connie in the neck, but instead of screaming, she slumped over. It was a tranquilizer dart, not a bullet.

The sound of the fired hun echoed all around the building, and Delta popped up. "It seems that around 34 guards have heard the gunshot and are heading in your direction at this moment. It looks as if they do not know exactly where the sound came from, so you have approximately three minutes and two seconds before they find you. The weapons storage room is two doors to your left - if you go in there, your chances of survival are 42% better than staying where you are. They will not find you for five minutes and twenty-six seconds, enough to detonate the bomb and escape." Wash picked up Connie and rushed inside the room along with York (who had already opened the two doors to get in) before Delta got close to finishing his monologue.

They waited by the first door for a few seconds, listening for any footsteps near the door. When there were none, York aimed his explosive gun at a large pile of other explosives and fired, but nothing came out. He tried again before Delta popped up and added, "It seems as if your gun is jammed. Chances for survival have decreased by 31%. The best course of action now would be to manually create your own bomb out of the materials provided." He disappeared.

York yelled, "Godammit!" He threw the gun to the ground and picked up the large pile of explosives, getting to work on making his own bomb. Wash turned around, laid down Connie, and came to his side, trying to help him make the bomb.

"What do we do? We're running out of time before they find us!" Wash exclaimed as he wired things together. York sighed.

"Check on Connie and call for 479er to come closer. I can take it from here." Wash looked as if he wanted to help for a second, but went to Connie. York continued making the bomb, but soon loud thumping sounds came from behind them. The rebels... They were getting closer. Wash looked terrified for a moment, but York turned from the bomb to look at him. "The bomb is almost finished! Run! If you go now, you can make it past them!" Wash didn't need to be told twice. He picked up Connie and ran for the first door, which was still locked.

He tried to open the door, but there was no clear handle. He could hack into the door and open it, but only York was skilled enough to do that, and he didn't dare disturb York in the middle of making a bomb... The only solution was to try and hack through it himself. He laid the unconscious Connie on the floor next to him and started to tap at the screen beside the door. He had been working for five seconds when the blue screen flashed red, and an alarm screamed through the building. A female voice came over the loudspeaker. "An entryway has been breached. Lockdown procedure initiated. All doors opening, and will close in 45 seconds... 45, 44, 43..." The door in front of Wash opened instantly, and he turned to York in terror.

York shouted back, "Take Connie and run, godammit, run! I can clear a path for you! RUN!" Wash didn't want to desert him, but he picked up Connie and rushed out of the door. York said, "D, make my voice 50 times louder, please." Delta complied, and altered his radio. York began to talk.

"Hello, rebels. This is Agent York. I know you would just love to look after my Freelancer buddies who might be in here with you, but that's a bad idea. See, I have a bomb here, and if you don't escape now, you're all going to die. Thank you for choosing New York Airlines!" And with that, he went back to finishing his bomb, the fear he worked so hard to suppress rising as the lockdown timer made its way into the teens.

He finally finished the bomb, and with mere seconds to spare, sprinted for the door. It was shutting before his very eyes, he was getting close...

Just a little bit further...

And the door shut long before he went through, the lockdown timer reaching 0. He froze in place... So this was it.

The bomb was wired to explode after 20 seconds, yet another timer. Maybe he could hack his way through the door, get away from the explosion, he still had 17 seconds... Delta popped up beside him. "Agent York, chances of survival have reached 3%. You cannot unlock the door in time. You should initiate armor lockdown." York blinked, gulping.

"No, record a message. Okay... Carolina, goodbye. You should know that I... I loved you with everything I had. Still do, you know. Probably won't for much longer, though." He tried to go on, but the countdown timer was reaching 5... "Oh, shit." He ran. He ran through the gigantic storage room, weaving his way through the explosives and guns, trying to say 'Initiate armor lockdown' but he couldn't, and this was it, he was going to die... No, he would make it, he would live for Caroli-

BOOM.

he was flying through the air with no way of stopping rocks and pieces of the wall were banging against his armor there was fire and parts of guns and gunpowder exploded as he flailed but he was falling not flying anymore and then he heard the rock fall to the ground and he felt a huge impact as unimaginable pain struck through the side of his head his helmet was off and it was getting dark and Goodbye, Carolina.


	2. Chapter 2

**Sorry about all that angst. Welp, the only reason these chapters are separate is because when I made it, it was truly atrocious when it was one chapter. It was like, fifteen pages. I couldn't do it that way. Even I have limits.**

 **Disclaimer: *sigh* god damnit.**

How could this have happened?

It wasn't a stealthy in-and-out mission anymore, as York had said, it was a life-or-death situation. And while Wash and Connie had gotten the life part of the situation, York had almost certainly gotten the death.

Wash watched through the open end of the Pelican as they flew away without York, who hadn't ever come out of the exploded building, and felt an ever-rising feeling of shame and sadness.

It was his fault.

If he hadn't been so goddamn stupid, hadn't fired the gunshot that had set the rebels on their trail, hadn't tried to hack open the door instead of finding some other way, they could have all made it out of this mission alive.

But no.

He had failed.

And York had payed the price.

479er closed the end of the Pelican, and Wash immediately got out of his chair and went to get a first aid kit to try and revive Connie. After getting the dart out of her neck and pouring a medicine down her throat, she came to. She looked around. "What happened?"

Wash looked bitter, but answered her question. "You were shot in the neck with a tranquilizer dart. We set off the bomb. We're in the Pelican."

Connie waited a moment before asking, "York?" Wash turned away instantly, ashamed.

"He... He was still in the building when the bomb went off. He might have been in the same room, even. He sacrificed himself for us, for the mission. I was hoping you could track him, since you have that function in your helmet... See if he's..." He gulped. "Still alive?"

Connie nodded. Her head was buzzing, but she lifted a hand to her helmet. Wash stood up and moved to the side of the Pelican as she tried to find York's signal, hand on the wall and head bent down. After a second, she answered. "I'm not getting any signal. We're... Too far away to tell. Either that or he's..." She couldn't bring herself to finish.

A second, then: "Godammit!" Wash banged his fist against the wall and rubbed his face. Connie had never seen him this angry.

Carolina walked around the Mother of Invention, heading back to her room after a long day of training. It had been quiet without York, Wash, and Connie around, and she couldn't wait to go back to sparring with York. He was the only one who ever challenged her.

She hadn't even bothered to go back to the locker rooms, because she was going to go back out to train again and would have rather had her armor in her room with her so she didn't have to stop at the locker room to change back into it. She sighed - maybe York was right, she did need to take a break sometimes, but she wanted to stay fit all the time so she could keep ahead of the others. She liked having the first ranking, after all.

As she passed the Director's office, she heard snippets of conversation between him and the Counselor. She slowed her walk as she eavesdropped.

The Counselor's slow, calm voice came first, "Yes, the Pelican with the Agents in it is heading back at this time... The mission succeeded, but we will have to go back... Valuable equipment that cannot be lost..." Carolina frowned and listened closer. "Besides, the other Agents will want to... And even if he is, by some chance... Yes, Director, tomorrow we will go back to the base..."

The Director's southern drawl came in. "We'll send out Agents Washington and Carolina. Carolina is one of our best, and because of Agent Washington's failure to stay hidden and to escape without tripping any alarms, he'll be sent out to see the consequences of his shortcomings. They will retrieve the armor and the body of the Agent; It is highly unlikely that Agent New York survived."

Carolina froze as the words sunk in. Agent New York... Collecting his - his body? He was dead? York was dead?

No.

He couldn't be dead.

York couldn't die on her.

She hadn't gotten to say goodbye.

York was dead.

And,

And she

She hadn't told him.

She hadn't said the three words that meant everything.

And now he was gone forever.

He would never know.

Her breathing sped up, sped up until she was hyperventilating and her armor felt like a prison and it was too hot and too dark and she needed to get away because York was dead. She sprinted to her room, ignoring the looks she got from some Freelancers that were in the hallway and just running because she needed to get the armor off, now.

She burst in through the door of her room and lifted her shaking hands to rip off her helmet and throw it to her side, scrabbling to get the chest plate off and ripping off the pieces until she was out in the open, breathing.

No!

She collapsed on the bed, letting the sobs shake her body back and forth as she mourned the only person she had ever truly loved.

He couldn't be gone.

Who would be there to let her crawl into bed with when she had nightmares, to stop her when she trained too hard, to help her up when she fell, to hold her when she cried?

York was gone.

He had loved her unconditionally, had owned all of her heart, had kept her safe and had made her laugh when nobody else had. He was the only one.

What had she done to deserve this? What had she done that deserved ripping away every piece of happiness and love she had? Why?

Her breathing was sharp and violent as cascades of tears fell down her cheeks.

Wash.

It was his fault.

She shakily made her way to her feet as her hands balled into fists. She would find him. She would find Washington and make him pay for this.

Wash sighed, letting out a large breath of air before throwing a brutal hit to the punching bag, making it fly off its chain and go barreling across the gym. He glared at it menacingly and went to the other punching bag, and then started pummeling it. He knew that he had to go to sleep, and now, if he wanted to be functional in the morning. But function didn't matter right now. He had to train, train and get stronger before he killed any of his other friends. Right. Now.

With a grunt, he let out a strong hit to the punching bag again and ripped off his boxing gloves, throwing them to the ground and putting his hands on his forehead. He was pathetic. He was incompetent. He was weak. It was his fault that York was dead. He was the one who should have died. He should have died. He should be dead!

He sank onto a bench and let out one long breath. God, he was so terrible.

With a small swoosh, the door opened to reveal Carolina. She had her gym clothes on and a hardened expression on her face as she stomped into the room. Her eyes were red and puffy. "Washington," she growled menacingly. "I think that I could use some good wrestling right about now, how about you?" Wash would normally gulp and try to escape the situation, but now he stood up and moved into position. It was about time he became a good soldier.

She hardly gave him any time to get ready before launching herself at him, kicking and punching and screaming and the polar opposite of her calm, controlled, formulated self. Gone were her graceful lunges and flips - she was taking him down, with any way she could. Wash distantly thought, _Good, I deserve it,_ and half-heartedly defended himself.

In an instant, he was on the ground with her on top of him, fists flying. She growled bitter words to him in between her attacks. "You're pathetic." A fist to his side that he failed to block winded him momentarily as he struggled for some freedom, but not determinedly. "You're incompetent." He thought distantly back to his poorly-timed sneeze back on his mission - god, we was terrible. Her eyes held nothing but hatred and menace as she kicked him, hard. "You're weak."

He frowned bitterly and tried to lunge out, but she caught his fist with hers and held it, her teeth gritted. "It's your fault that York is dead."

It wasn't as if he had any doubts that she knew what a failure he was, anyway.

"You were the one that should have died." She made a kick at his head, which he rolled out of the way of, but just barely. "You should have died." A blow to his stomach made him wheeze, but it was all he deserved, after all.

She stilled above him, her words dripping with venom and agony and loathful hatred. "You should be dead!"

Her words made all the difference of the world to him.

How he hated himself, just so goddamn much, but his self-loathing was not worth wasting the gift York had granted him.

Life.

The chance to keep living, despite the ticking tomb bomb that was hovering over his head. As a Freelancer, he wasn't expected to live long.

But York had wound back his clock for a little.

He deserved to keep living. He would keep ticking to make up for the time York lost.

And that was where he found the strength to punch Carolina in the face, harder than he ever had.

She collapsed backwards, holding her face and grunting, trying to stem the flow of blood. She glared at him, but it was filled with less hatred than it had before. For a crazy , Wash thought the reason she had started crying was because he punched her too hard, but then he quickly realized the answer that had been gnawing at him for the past hours.

Right. York was still fucking dead.

He put his head in his hands and sighed. He wished he didn't have to feel this pain, he wished nobody did. It was so his fault, in every way, but starting now he would make up for it. The best he could, anyway.

He took Carolina in his arms and hugged her as she sobbed. He slowly let a few of his tears slip down his face, too.

After a while, Carolina's sobs quieted into sniffles, and she finally raised her eyes to look at him. They held no hatred in them at all - only sadness. She gave a small smile to him and said, "Good punch." He chuckled.

Fuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuck, that hurt so damn bad.

York's head dropped back into the stone and dust, and he fell into a troubled unconsciousness again.


	3. Chapter 3

**So here is chapter 3. I don't really know what to say except... enjoy!**

 **Disclaimer: Suck it, me! You don't own RvB!**

Wash rubbed his face for a moment, exhausted by the mission the day before and the beatdown he had received from Carolina before sticking his helmet back onto his face and sighing. He felt so ashamed when he woke up this morning, and the feeling had not left him. He trusted that it would only grow, because it was just a matter of time before the other Freelancers found out what happened.

He started his walk to the area where they would all be meeting today, his head hanging down and his hidden expression sullen and holding back tears. He bit his lip and drew in one sharp, but quiet breath, shook himself out, and walked into the door.

The rest of the Freelancers stood in the room, quietly conversing and looking around. Wash knew they were wondering where York was - it had been too long not to notice. He kept his eyes trained on the floor, ignoring the curious looks he was getting. He looked up at Connie for one pain-filled second before looking back down at his feet, his hands, the floor, the ceiling - anything but the people who were about to be crushed.

The room went silent when the Director and the Counselor entered. The Freelancers got in a line, all standing up straight and their heads looking straight forwards, except for Wash's. His head was ever so slightly tilting towards the floor.

The Director wasted no time. "Yesterday's mission, while successful, has caused the death of Agent New York. Agents Carolina and Washington, you will go out to retrieve his armor." As the blunt words were said, Wash watched the reactions of all of his friends.

North's shoulders slumped, and he looked down to the ground as if trying to control himself. South's fists were clenched, and her perfect posture was ruined. Maine and Wyoming looked as if they didn't know what to do with themselves. Connie was looking at the floor. And, on top of that, all eyes were on Carolina, who remained rigid and unmoving. Wash looked closer, though, and saw how tense her shoulders were.

She turned her head to him, and shot him a skeptical glare. Wash got the message - back off, I'm fine - that everyone usually got when Carolina was hurt or upset. He turned back to the Director. "You will meet your pilot at the hangar. You will have no trouble at the base, seeing as it has been abandoned."

Carolina and Wash nodded, turning and heading towards the hangar. As the Director and the Counselor left, Wash looked back and North, looking dejected and miserable as he sat in a chair, his head in his hands. Everyone else looked more or less the same.

479er didn't say a word to either of them, and Carolina went to sit up in the front, leaving Wash alone in the back of the Pelican. He struggled to keep his emotions in check and his focus on the job, wrestling with himself as the Pelican took off and flew, and not stopping even as it landed.

They dropped into the water, as Wash had done the day before, and swam up. The fog had not dissipated, so they could not see the building until they came ashore. What they saw did not lift their spirits, at all.

What had once been a gigantic base was now a pile of rubble. Bits of steel and metal stuck up in between the large pieces of rock that had flown everywhere, and that was just the outside. Wash's stomach dropped - if York had been caught in that building, hell, _in that goddamn room,_ there was almost no way he would have survived.

They picked their way in between the rocks, guns up and on the lookout, but there was nobody in sight. After a while, they lowered their guns. Carolina said, in a voice that was tense and almost strangled, "Maybe we should split up." Unable to bring himself to words just yet, Wash nodded and headed off in a different direction.

He had been walking and climbing for a while when he saw something a bit out of the ordinary. A Freelancer symbol, engraved on a gun - he picked up the gun and inspected it. It was York's explosive gun.

He looked at the place he had found it, rummaging around and throwing rocks around, trying to find a glint of tan armor, but there was none to be found. After ten minutes of continuing failure, he picked up York's gun and headed in the direction he had seen Carolina go off to.

Carolina looked around, observing the situation around her. There were numerous amounts of explosives, guns, and ammo where she was searching, and all of it was twisted, melted, or blown to bits. She shuddered to think what had become of York here.

After about ten minutes of searching, she found nothing. Nothing left of the person she loved, so goddamn much, and she hated it. She just wanted anything, any sign of him.

And for once, she got what she wanted.

A small hint of tan armor.

She threw herself to her knees, her breathing getting shorter, as she scrabbled at the rocks and threw them behind her, desperate for him to be alive.

It was him.

York's helmet had come off. His head was tilted to the side, as if he had passed out (she hoped that was all) and his eyes were closed. A bloody gash was covering the left side of his face, and it was fresh and still shining. His armor was scratched in many places and covered in bits of rock, and she just couldn't tell if he was still breathing or not.

She struggled to get the rest of the rock still covering parts of his legs off, and when she did, she saw his helmet.

The visor was cracked and part of the side had actually been blasted off - it was missing, and the edges around the hole were rough and blackened. She shuddered, a small tear coming down her face.

Carolina jumped when she heard Delta's voice. It was coming out of the helmet, she was sure - it didn't sound as if Delta was speaking to her in real life, and she felt a small buzzing from the storage unit on the inside.

"Agent York, chances of survival have reached 3%. You cannot unlock the door in time. You should initiate armor lockdown." She gulped, and collapsed next to York's still body. Then his voice came next, sounding rough and uncertain.

"No, record a message. Okay... Carolina, goodbye." She gasped, many tears escaping and she squeezed her eyes closed, shaking her head. "You should know that I... I loved you with everything I had. Still do, you know. Probably won't for much longer, though." She bit her lip, a sob escaping. York loved her. He - had loved her. And then, she heard his last words, the words she hoped would never come this early. "Oh, shit." A loud beeping noise dominated the sounds of York's heavy breathing and falling footsteps, before an earth-shattering _boom_ ended everything.

She dropped the helmet next to York, ripping off her helmet and putting her hands over her eyes, wishing this wasn't true. He had told her he loved her in his last moments, and she would never, ever, get to say it back to him.

Then, through the terrible noises that crashed and burned through York's broken helmet, she heard Delta's calm voice, barely audible through the chaos that must have been raging. "Initiate armor lockdown." Then, a short yell that must have been York and a buzzing, static sound sound came. His helmet, despite armor lockdown, must have been blasted off.

She lay herself beside him, lacing her fingers through his blood-slicked hair and holding up his head, her tears falling onto his blank face. She loved him more than she had ever loved anything, loved him beyond all the stars and all of the planets and stars and universes, but she had always been to proud to tell him so. So stupidly proud.

And she heard clanking footsteps coming from a few meters to her right, behind a pile of rubble and melted explosives. She reached for her gun, but by then, the person had already come into view, and she relaxed her hand. It was just Wash. Carolina absolutely hated to look weak or vulnerable, but she had already broken down with Wash last night. It wasn't worth the effort to stop herself.

She heard a clattering, and saw that Wash had dropped whatever gun he had been carrying and ran to York's other side, dropping to his knees and frantically asking, "Is he okay? Oh god, he has to be okay..."

Carolina reached up tentatively for his neck, looking for a pulse.

Shocked, she pulled her hand away.

She had been given another chance.

With a smile on her face, she addressed Wash. "We have to get to the Pelican, now." Wash gave her a confused look. The smile on her face growling a little, looking slightly sly, she said: "He's got a pulse."


	4. Chapter 4

**So this is the last chapter. This took forever to make, but I'm really proud of it!**

 **Disclaimer: D: nope**

Wash paced back and forth, biting his lip and wringing his hands. He really, _really_ hoped that York had actually lived through all of this, and that he hadn't gotten his friend killed. He didn't think he could take it if he was dead for a second time.

York was in the medbay, in his own private room, hooked up to a really quite large amount of machines. He had been rushed back to the Mother of Invention frighteningly fast on the Pelican, and then had undergone surgery and constant care for 24 hours straight. It was all he could do to stop Carolina from rushing in and punching him until he woke up. The same went for himself, for that matter.

Since then, though, York had been unconscious and still hadn't woken up. The doctors said he was going to be fine, no lasting damage, but that didn't stop most everyone on the team from staying by his side at all hours of the day as if he were on his deathbed.

Carolina refused to do absolutely anything until he woke up. The others had coaxed her into eating a bit, but it had been three days since they found York, and she hadn't given into to sleep yet. Wash himself was barely keeping his eyes open, and he had slept. Carolina must have been functioning completely off of adrenaline, and maybe love.

Wash looked over to Carolina, his gaze settling on her for a moment. Her Freelancer instincts instantly picked up on it, and she turned to him. He was mid-yawn, though, and she fixed him with a quizzical look before he gave a short nod and headed out of the room to sleep. She understood what he meant.

To be honest, Carolina was grateful that Wash had left. He had been good support for her in the past few days, but she just wanted to be alone right now. Just with York. It wouldn't be special if somebody else was there when he woke up.

She was aware that she sounded like a cliche romance story, and that she was the giggly, love-struck little prissy girl who happened to be the main character, but she didn't mind. Well, maybe a little, but still.

York still wasn't waking up. And the growing feeling of dread in her stomach that had been balled up since he got out of surgery was still there, too. She knew that it was only normal for him to be asleep for a while, since he had a head wound and he had gotten all drugged up from surgery - but what if he slipped into a coma?

What if he didn't wake up for years? What if he never woke up, and she would be waiting and waiting forever until they finally decided he wasn't worth the wait anymore? What if he didn't make it, after all of this? What if she never ever got to say her goodbye to him?

She wouldn't be able to deal with that. She wouldn't be able to live like that.

Coming off of her chair and kneeling on the ground next to him, she put her hand in his and laid her head on his chest. She wanted to fall asleep, but she would never forgive herself for not being there for him if he woke up while she napped. That was selfish.

She squeezed his hand the slightest bit. She really, really hoped he woke up soon, because she needed to say goodbye. No, she needed to say hello. If we woke up, he was here to stay. She'd make sure of that.

Then, she felt a small squeeze back.

Her head shot up, focusing on the fluttering eyelids of the person who she loved more than anything.

She didn't hesitate to kiss him.

Grabbing onto his chest, she forced her lips on his, causing a small groan to emit from York before he slowly wrapped his arms around her, gently kissing her back, and then pulled away to smile and take a breath. His voice had a small, happy lilt to it. "Just couldn't wait a second, could you? Tryin' to steal my last breath, I bet."

Immediately, her smile became a frown and she worriedly said, "Last breath? York, don't say that. I haven't slept for three days because I've been so worried over you and I thought you would never wake up again, you can't leave me, York -" He interrupted her hurried ranting with a slow, concerned sentence.

"Hey, Carolina, come on, I was just joking. No need to get worried. And - three days? You didn't leave me for three days?" She shook her head, almost unnoticeable tears glinting in the sides of her eyes.

"You'd do the same for me." Was her only reply. He gave her a small smile.

"Yeah, I would." He locked eyes with her for a moment, before looking away and awkwardly coughing. "So, I uh... may have said some things in a message, uh... before everything happened... did you, uh, listen to it?" She nodded. He blinked. "Oh. Well, okay. Um, you don't have to, um, worry about what I said... I understand if you don't really, uh, like me in that way, I guess." His words were so certain, Carolina felt a little guilty about never showing him how she felt.

However, amusement covered her tone. "What do you think that kiss was for, idiot?"

A small smile graced his features. "Pity?"

She corrected him. "No, York. It's because I love you more than anything I've ever loved before and I couldn't be without you any longer."

His eyes were full of pure delight, and he answered, "You know that I love you. I think you're strong, you're tough, and you're so, so beautiful, and you're everything I never knew I wanted. And I do love you with everything that I have. Present tense." He closed his eyes and kissed her, holding her tight and making sure he wouldn't let go, not ever again.

After all, their clocks were ticking down, and he wanted to make the best of what time he had left.


End file.
